The Dog Does Not Bite

Hi Odile,

I was cleaning out one of the bedrooms for Christine's visit with the kitties while we were out of town on vacation and I found a pictures of us with mom two months before mom passed away. I remember Helen was asking us to get closer and keep on smiling. The three of us sitting with you and me leaned toward mom and posing for the picture. Looking at the picture I don't remember what we did that day but I do remember we wanted to go to see the sunset by the Gulf. We were, at that time, what the hospice worker said in "denial" stage. Well, I didn't know that there were that many stages of death! Did you?

But I remember vividly the day I flew to Florida to visit mom. I wanted to do a long run before the flight and I knew once I was in Florida I won't be mentally or physically alert enough to run. That morning I went out for a run in my neighborhood, the same route I have ran for years after work or real early in the morning. It was different scenery to run at mid-day, funny how the sun can change the look of the road or the houses.

I was about half way into my run, I saw a lady with a black poodle or some similar type of poodles. The dog was on an expandable lease and the lady was busy looking at the wild flowers along the road. The dog saw me and I saw the dog, we made eyes contact. I didn't think I was a threat to the dog or I didn't think the dog thought I was a threat. As I ran pass the dog, all was fine and dandy until the little black poodle lunged and sunk his teeth in my right calf. I screamed and his owner turned around and gave me a puzzle look. I stopped my run and told her the dog just bite me. She told me that her dog doesn't bite. I pointed to my calf and show her the dog's teeth marks and the blood started dripping out. I couldn't talk for a few seconds but it seemed like hours and asked her if her dog had all the shots. She kept telling me that her dog doesn't bite. I finally asked her for the address and I need to get back to her after my run. I tried to repeat the poodle's house number and the many ways that helped me remember the house number, since the poodle lives just around the corner.

When I got to the turnaround of my run which was near the fish hatchery, the surface of my skin where the dog bite was now swollen. I walked in the fish hatchery visitor center and asked the people if they have any first aid kits that I could use to clean out the dog bite. The workers couldn't find the first aid kits or have any band-aids. I went in the public bathroom and tried to clean the dog bite. I think it was a little late to clean out the bacteria but I kept on cleaning it with soap and good thing the wound didn't sting but my calf was tight and hard as a rock. The bruise was turning blue and became the size of a small lemon. One ranger from the hatchery was waiting for me outside the bathroom and handed me a band-aid from his car for me to put over the infected area. The run back was long and tortuous but I kept on running and started to cry. I don't know why I cried, I guess I needed a hug at the time, or maybe I just needed to hear the owner apologize to me, or knowing the trip I was about to take would be my last trip to see mom. But I was so determined to finish the run since this might be my last long run for a while.

When I got home I called my doctor and told her a little ugliest poodle in the whole wide world bite me and I was going to be out of town for few weeks starting tonight and I need some medication for the infection. The nurse gave me some advice of what to do with the bruised wound and the number to call to report the dog bite to the County. By the time I was done with all the telephone calls, the poodle's owner called me to say that she found the paper works and that the dog was up to date with all his shots. I came to the poodle's house to get the copy of the shot paper and the ugly poodle acted like he was so happy to see me and I was his best friend! The owner saw the bruise on my leg and continued to convince me that her dog doesn't bite. It reminded me of a film clip from Peter Seller, the Pink Panther movie, when he asked the hotel owner "does your dog bite", the hotel owner said "no, my dog does not bite". Then Peter Sellers petted the dog and the dog bit him. Peter Sellers said "I thought you said your dog does not bite" and the hotel owner said "that is not my dog".

That evening Bob dropped me off at the airport and the flight to Florida that night seemed so long and I wish you were with me on the flight.

The picture of the three of us smiling but I can tell that we were both forcing a smile. Mom's smile has a natural happiness, I knew she was happy that the two of us were there visiting. My smile looked faked and sad and your smile was somewhere else. But if you look down by my right calf, you can see the black and blue bruise had covered the entire lower leg.

I remember you and Helen boiled the crabs for dinner that night after the trip to see the sunset, and how mom wanted to fry the crabs with salt but we didn’t want mom to do anything but watch us boiled the live crabs in half water and half beer. I won't remind you of the loud noise coming from the pot full of live crabs. I just couldn’t believe how many crabs Helen, you and me ate that night.

Few months later I came back to Florida for another visit and it would be my last visit with mom.   Helen brought more crabs for Trung and me, what a sweet heart Helen was and still is to this day!. Trung put on band aids on his thumb and his forefinger to eat the crabs because he didn’t want his fingers to get all beat up from the hard shells. I couldn’t stop laughing for a while but I did the same thing. After the first crab, I had to take the band aid off because I rather have beat up fingers from eating the crabs than eating the band-aid flavored crabs.

Love,
Odette
ps. you can watch the Peter Sellers' film clip from  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ue0fZfwHfzo

My First 10k T-Shirt

It’s that time of the year when I start taking my cats to get their lion haircut for the spring, and spring-cleaning. Taking the cats to get their haircut is easy; tackle the spring-cleaning is a little harder. Because one part of the spring-cleanings is putting away my winter wardrobe to make room for my bright summer dresses and a good explanation to my husband why I need more closet space when I “haven’t buy anything in years”. As my little lions look alike cats roaming around the room helping me, I started my Odette’s cleaning machine.

Few hours later, the Rubbermaid storing boxes for my summer shorts and dresses were now filled with my winter jackets and sweaters. But somehow there were few of my winter running gears still need a home for the summer months. I was debating either to hog my husband’s space to store my last few winter running jackets or just hang them up somewhere in the other closets. When I tried to open one of my husband’s drawers to squeeze in my last few items, I was about to suggest to my husband that he needed to donate all those t-shirts that he doesn’t even wear anymore. Then I realized they were all my running t-shirts that I had stored from last winter in my husband's drawer. As I started to put all the cotton shirts in the pile for Goodwill, I chuckled to myself because I haven’t worn a cotton shirt to run in since the invention of “dri-fit”, a real fancy name for polyester. I recognized one of the white t-shirts with faded picture of a pair of sneakers and the helmet with wings from my very first 10k in 1985. The print is now faded but I can still see the date, it was June 8, 1985, on the back of the shirt.  The shirt is small when "small" was really a true small not like the today supersize "small".

It was the day Mather Air Force Base was having a 5K/10K race before the air show. I was planning to run the 5k but one of the runners explained to me that part of the 10k course is on the taxiway. “No way” I remember saying. I haven’t run more than three miles per day but yet I registered to do the 10K, the 6-point-2-miles. Because I wanted to run on the taxiway, the same taxiway that my husband drove on when he was behind the stick of a T-37 or the B-52 (the plane not the music group).

I don’t recall my time or how I did after the race but I remember the first hour of my 6-point-2-miles t-shirt. I remember putting on that brand new cotton t-shirt in the car before the race. The weather was perfect, the sky was deep blue and so clear that you can see the Sierra. I remember I was running on the taxiway at Mather AFB looking at the B-52s and the KC-135s parking by the alert area of the base, and other airplanes parking along the hangers ready for the air show.

I remember how I kept looking down at my shirt and what a beautiful shirt it was for $15, the race registration fee. I kept rubbing my hands against the shirt, the shirt felt so nice and soft. I remember I spilled some water on the six-point-two-miles thick cotton shirt at the first water station and I was afraid it may shrink. I remember I skipped the second water station because I didn’t want to spill any more water on me and ruin the shirt. I wanted to wear the shirt to the air show that day.

By the time I got to the last water station, I was tired, I was hot and I was very thirsty. I stopped to drink the water and was so careful not to spill any drop of it on my thick six-point-two-miles cotton shirt. Then a clumsy runner from behind threw his half-full paper cup toward the trashcan but he missed, and I could feel the cold water running down my brand new thick heavy cotton shirt against my back like a waterfall. I was about to stop and show him what happened, then I heard all the noises of people cheering nearby "good job daddy", "almost there", "go guys", "stay together now", "around the corner and you're there"... By then, the guy who splashed his water on me, was a few step ahead of me, I picked up my pace along with my heavy feet and passed him so he can see what he did to my shirt. As I passed him he didn't seem to notice my thick and heavy cotton shirt was soaking with water from his cup. He turned his head, smiled and said to me "good job, took me at least 10 minutes to catch up to you". He didn't seem like he did anything wrong. I noticed his new shirt was soaked as well with his own sweat, yuck! But he didn’t seem to mind.

The corner or the finish line was nowhere to be found or heard and half a mile seemed like hundreds. I was trying to stay in front of him; I wanted him to see my pristine shirt was now stained from his water cup. I don’t recall my time when I crossed the finish line. But I remember the man who splashed his water on my very first 10k t-shirt holding his young daughter came up to me near the finish line, gave me a high-five and with his gentle and tired smile said to me "thank you".

The shirt is now faded and thin, it has been to many places with me in the last two decades. I don't wear it anymore but yet, it still got a premier spot in the drawer again this year.